


Shape of Stars

by dinbird



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, M/M, Multi, because damn do I love me some daemons, like this is gonna be a fill in the gaps of the show but with daemons, more tags to come I suppose, which means that everything you see in canon will probably be here at some point so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinbird/pseuds/dinbird
Summary: “Troy Krieghauser”, the Deputy says back, shakes in a firm, friendly way, and then lets go to flick the brim of his hat up with his fingers. “It’s a right pleasure, Sammy. You bet I’ll be listenin’ to see how you boys are doing. If you make it on time, that is”, he adds, and his dæmon sits down next to him with her tongue out of her mouth in that classic doggy smile.Or, the off-the-air fill-in-the-gaps dæmon au I desperately wanted, because everything is better with dæmons.





	1. Chapter 1

”Look. There’s headlights.”

Lida’s voice is quiet and tense and Sammy can’t blame her at all. He’d seen the flashes of red and blue in the rear-view mirror too but hadn’t wanted to think about them, still wants them to just go away, but of course his dæmon voices what he’s afraid to.

She was curled up in the passenger seat of the car up until only a moment ago. Now, she has her front paws on the gentle slope of the inside of the door, looking intently into the side mirror. It’s too dark to make out her gray colour and black stripes, but Sammy can picture what his dæmon looks like just as well as he can picture her big yellow eyes and the worry in them.

He feels the same way. His nerves are frayed. It’s the middle of the night, he’s late for the first day of the job, he can’t remember the last time he slept, and more than anything, his heart is breaking with every single breath he takes because time doesn’t heal any goddamn wounds, it infects them.

“I know”, he says, slowing down. Lida makes a small, elegant leap onto the dashboard and curls up closer to him. In the rear-view mirror the lights come closer, but whoever is driving the police car hasn’t turned on the sirens. Sammy pulls over with his heart in his throat anyway and turns around to look into the back seat when the car is stopped.

The dæmon there hasn’t moved. She’s lying still, wrapped in a blanket and hidden between boxes.

Sammy nervously wets his lips and reaches for Lida, who butts her head into his hand like all cats do but stays where she is, watching out the driver’s side window.

“He’s coming.”

Taking a deep breath, Sammy looks in the side mirror as a man walks up. Uniform, cowboy style hat. Sammy rolls down the window before he can tap on it, and he steels himself before leaning forward with what he hopes is a sincere-looking small smile.

“Going too fast, huh?” he says by way of greeting, and the Deputy looks at him with an amused glint his eyes.

“If the shoe fits, buddy, only you’re not _goin’_ much of anywhere.”

“Uh … right. Well, I’m – I think I’m kind of lost, actually.”

The Deputy has a dog dæmon, a mid-sized, elegant, golden-ginger kind that Sammy doesn’t immediately recognise, and her tail is wagging. Sammy’s still trying to calm the racing of his fucking heart and keeps a hand in Lida’s fur, but he feels a little more at ease, seeing that.

It’s a small town, he reminds himself. People are friendly. This isn’t Los Angeles. Keep calm. Keep fucking calm, Stevens.

“Yeah, no two ways about it!” says the Deputy with an easy smile. “Now, just tell me where you’re headed to and we’ll have you on your way in a jiffy.”

“Thanks”, Sammy says, his smile turning a little more genuine. “Right, so I’m trying to find my way to the radio station – I was told it’s on the mountain?”

“Oh, sure is. Hey, you wouldn’t be the new radio guy, would you?”

“That’s me”, Sammy says, finally letting go of his dæmon in order to offer the Deputy a hand. “Sammy Stevens.”

“Troy Krieghauser”, the Deputy says back, shakes in a firm, friendly way, and then lets go to flick the brim of his hat up with his fingers. “It’s a right pleasure, Sammy. You bet I’ll be listenin’ to see how you boys are doing. If you make it on time, that is”, he adds, and his dæmon sits down next to him with her tongue out of her mouth in that classic doggy smile.

Sammy laughs. “Yeah, about the speeding …”

Troy laughs too and pats the roof of the car.

“Don’t you worry about that none, buddy. Alright. You want to keep going this way”, he says, and gestures with his arm in a sweeping way along the road they’re both on. “Then you take a right, soon as you make it past a big ol’ boulder that looks like someone’s grandma had a few too many lemons for breakfast.”

“What?” Lida asks in a whisper, tail flicking. Sammy agrees.

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a solid and show me, would you?” he asks Troy, who takes a step back from Sammy’s car in response.

“Naw, I don’t mind one bit. Anything for AM Radio”, Troy says in such an easy, relaxed way that it has to be contagious. Sammy thanks him, Troy gets back into his car, and drives past Sammy – no red and blues this time – who follows him.

Once he makes it onto the right road, he gives Troy a wave when he keeps going. And when Troy’s car can’t be seen in any of the mirrors, Lida slinks into the back seat and curls up next to the crow dæmon hidden there.

###

Sammy practically runs into the station once he makes it. The station is old, it looks like a cabin more than anything else, and the door takes a second of convincing before he can open it and enter the studio itself, which doesn’t look a lot better. It’s a far fucking cry from the studio he’d had in LA, but honestly? It makes him feel better, not worse.

The person Sammy assumes is his new producer stands up from where he’d been tapping his fingers against a desk and immediately comes up to him.

“Sammy?” he asks with a real sense of urgency that makes Sammy feel a little bad. But he nods, and he gets a relieved sigh in return. “Okay, great. Okay. Uh, I’m Ben Arnold. This is Aylin.”

His domestic ferret-dæmon stands up on her hind legs on the desk and looks at Sammy and Lida, and Sammy steps forward to shake hands with his new producer. “Sammy, obviously”, he says, while Lida jumps up on the desk and gives Aylin a little sniff. “That’s Lidaranth. Sorry we’re late, there was –”

“Yeah, uh, it’s fine”, Ben says, and ushers Sammy towards his spot. The chair looks very lived in. The audio setup is old. Still, there’s a kind of charm to it that Sammy very deliberately doesn’t want to pay too much attention to. “We need to check your levels. You can check your apology boxes later.”

Sammy doesn’t argue.

###

When he heard about UFOs for the first time, Sammy was maybe eight years old. Or, sure, he’d seen ET, he was vaguely aware of The X-Files, but this was the first time he’d been told about UFOs as something outside of science fiction or TV. As something that could maybe be a real thing.

His father immediately told him that was ridiculous when Sammy asked him if that was true.

“That’s all just stories from people who want attention and fame”, he said, dismissive as usual, looking more at his paper than Sammy who was standing in front of him in the living room. His dad’s tiger dæmon was curled up around the chair he was sitting in. And maybe it was stupid, but Sammy had always felt intimidated by her. She never, ever played with Lida, and she was so big, and Sammy didn’t think he’d heard her say more than six things in his short life. “You can’t trust people who tell you things like that, Sammy.”

Lida was perched on his shoulder like a little songbird and he felt her lean against the side of his neck.

“Andy told me he’d seen it on TV. That they were talking to a person who had been kidnapped.”

“Well”, said his dad, and folded the paper over to lean forward, to really look Sammy in the eyes. “Sometimes people are confused and they don’t know what happened to them. Sometimes they’re stupid. And sometimes they lie and people believe them. You got that?”

“Yes”, Sammy said, and he knew that being asked if he understood really meant that he was dismissed, so he took another look at his dad’s tiger, and then he went up to his room.

### 

The apartment is only slightly unpacked. Not that Sammy brought much from California. All his belongings had felt more or less useless to keep after everything that happened, and Sammy’s never been an overly sentimental guy when it comes to material things. There are a few items that he doesn’t think he can ever get rid of but they’re things that don’t take up a lot of space.

He sets his groceries down on the kitchen table. It’s day three in King Falls and he’s finally taken the time to start to get to know the town. It was higher on his agenda but after those first few minutes on that very first show, his mind’s been jumbled and the town’s been in a panic.

Beyond the kitchen table there’s a pair of chairs, a couch, a bed, and a desk, and that’s about everything Sammy’s bothered with. There’s nothing wrong with the apartment itself: it has that slightly aged charm and no mysterious stains or smells, but Sammy doesn’t exactly intend to stay there long.

And he’s busy.

“At least it was a cute store”, Lida says, jumping up on the table. But she sounds more like she’s trying to find a silver lining and less like she really thinks so.

Sammy gives her a wry smile and starts putting things into the fridge. Milk, butter. The essentials. “Yeah, the whole town is cute. Except apparently it has a talent for disappearing people.”

“You should probably try not to hate it. People will notice.”

There’s a small pause on Sammy’s end before he sighs, keeps digging through the paper bag. “Yeah. You’re right. I just – I can’t get past it. And with what happened to Tim Jensen …”

Lida strokes herself against his arm. “Maybe his wife will understand. If we tell her.”

“We can’t”, Sammy says, and his eyes sting involuntarily. He feels so fucking raw, so sensitive. “You know we can’t.”

“I know”, she says after a long moment, but her voice is just as quiet as his. She turns to look towards the bedroom and Sammy follows her gaze.

The crow dæmon, still bundled up in a blanket, still unmoving, still not speaking, is breathing slowly but faintly where she lies on top of one of the boxes. She belongs to Jack Wright, who is nowhere to be found. 

###

Meeting Mary Jensen is a big deal and it had taken a few days to make it happen. She hadn’t wanted a damn interview, she’d said, at first, but Sammy and Ben had assured her that that wasn’t the reason they wanted to see her. Then it was about scheduling, since she worked normal hours and Sammy and Ben didn’t.

Now, going on four nights since her husband’s disappearance live on air, they’ve bought her dinner. Dinner is pizza, from a place Ben swears by and that Sammy privately thinks that he has no choice but to given that there’s one entire pizzeria in the whole town, but he doesn’t say anything about that out loud. The Jensen children are excited; turns out fast food can actually distract them from their reality for a moment, but it doesn’t have the same effect on Mary, who is watching the kids sadly as they eat and watch cartoons on TV.

“I don’t know how to talk to them about all this”, she says, and in her voice is all the tired grief that Sammy had expected to hear. “Of course I have to be honest with them, they’re not little idiots and you can’t treat them like it. But if I knew what had happened … then … then it would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

And Sammy _gets_ _it_ , on a level he’s never going to tell her about. Lidaranth is under the table along with Ben’s Aylin. They’re both very gently grooming Mary’s dæmon’s fur. He’s a meerkat with quick eyes but a coat that’s been dulled by Mary’s stress.

“Yeah. But none of this is easy”, Sammy says, making sure Mary is looking him in the eyes. “You’ve … you’ve been dealt a shitty fucking hand, Mary.”

“Language”, she says, with a tired, teary smile. “The little ones are right there, you know.”

“Sorry”, Sammy says, smiling faintly back.

“I’ve told him about the cussing”, Ben says, to try to lighten the mood, while he hands out pizza slices. “You won’t believe how much I have to bleep the guy.”

“Oh, I’ll believe it. You know I’m listening to you boys when … well, you’re good company some nights, I’ll tell you that much.”

When I can’t sleep, Sammy thinks. That’s what she’s saying. When she can’t sleep. “Right, well … like I was _saying_ ”, and he gives Ben a subtly playful look that makes Ben shrug and take a bite of his pizza, “no one can imagine what you’re going through right now. With the kids, with … everyone knowing. But I think if anyone is strong enough to tackle this whole mess, it’s you.”

“I agree”, Ben says, swallowing quickly to be able to jump in. “And – don’t get me wrong, Sammy – but if Sammy can see that already, then … you- you know we know you, right? We all _know_ you. I don’t know you _well_ , but it doesn’t matter. I know you and I know you’ll get through this. And that it’ll be alright. You know? He’ll be back.”

“I … oh, gosh. Thanks, boys.” Mary has that wet shine to her eyes that makes it look like she might cry, but there’s no trembling lip, no break in her voice. And Sammy knows he’s right, that Ben’s right. Mary Jensen will be able to get through this, one way or another.

Whether Ben’s right about her husband coming back from … from wherever he is now, that’s – that’s something Sammy doesn’t want to think as much about.

###

“I can’t believe you’re still dragging me onto the air”, Ben says a few days later, accepting a pen from Aylin when she drops it from her mouth into his hand to take a note on a scrap piece of paper. They’re on commercial.

“Well I can’t believe you’re still complaining about it when you’re _clearly_ enjoying yourself.”

Ben looks embarrassed for a moment, shoots Sammy a glance. There’s something nervous in his eyes that Sammy thinks he gets, even if he doesn’t agree with it: that fear of can I really do this? am I good enough? what if I fuck up and disappoint people?

But Sammy’s seen an energy in Ben from day one that he doesn’t think should be wasted away from the microphone. Not that being a producer doesn’t take passion, because it does, Sammy knows that better than most non-producers out there, but he still has the feeling that Ben’s picked that career path both because he enjoys it _and_ as an excuse to stay out of the spotlight.

Which frankly doesn’t work at all if you want to be a journalist people will remember, a journalist that will make a difference.

Sammy’s just trying to boost Ben’s confidence and get him to think on his feet more.

For his part, Ben looks like he wants to argue but isn’t sure how, and Aylin has scampered up his arm to curl around his shoulders for some kind of comfort.

“Well, I—it’s just –”

“Relax. Take it easy. Look, if you really don’t want to do this, I’ll happily talk shit about you on air without you being able to defend yourself.” Sammy gives him a small grin and Ben looks reluctantly amused. “But if this is about some stupid doubt in your abilities, you’re doing _fine_. Loosen up and you might even do great.”

“… yeah. Alright. Thanks, Sammy.”

“Don’t worry about it”, Sammy says, and then effortlessly picks up the cue as their music plays them back in.

###

One of the first things Sammy did was get blackout curtains for his bedroom, because when you work exclusively in the AM hours you won’t get any goddamn sleep otherwise. But the way his bedroom window is situated there’s this little ray of sun that sneaks through the gap between the curtain and the window and hits him in the face at around 1pm, if he’s unlucky enough to _not_ be facing the wall for those few minutes the light will sear right through his eyelids into his brain to wake him up.

But then again, if that sunlight doesn’t wake him, something else usually does. He feels like he’s constantly tired. He feels like he hasn’t slept for months. And he feels guilty for even being able to fall asleep even though Jack’s voice is ringing in his ears and his dæmon is in some kind of impossible fucking coma.

Amyria doesn’t seem to be in pain when Sammy sits up in bed and checks that she’s still there. Not that she seems to be much of anything anymore. She was always a little quieter, Jack did the talking for both of them, but seeing her like this, every damn day, it makes Sammy crumble.

Lidaranth will sometimes curl up with her, groom her, nuzzle her, all she can think of to try to help, to make something happen. But there’s never anything new. “She’s cold”, Lida’s said once, and she’s never said it again, but Sammy knows it still has to be true.

The one time he touched Amyria himself after … well, after Jack disappeared, he felt it too. That she was cold. And he refuses to think ‘cold as the grave’, because he’s not a masochist, but it just … none of this can be good. None of this makes any fucking sense.

When someone dies their dæmon disappears. So Jack can’t be dead. Except you can’t separate a person from their dæmon like this, either.

It’s just so impossible. Impossible and huge and insurmountable but damn it, there has to be something, somewhere, that will explain what’s happening, that will get Jack back.

And because Sammy knows he’s not going to get any rest now when he’s awake because he has a hard enough time falling asleep as it is, he just sighs and reaches for his laptop and sits up in bed, Lida giving that yawn that’s full of teeth as she curls up against him.

There has to be something.

Somewhere.

###

Six am hits on yet another morning and Sammy doesn’t yawn when he gets up and takes his headphones off, but he does stretch out a little bit, and on the desk Lida is doing the exact same, back arching in that perfect, shivery way that all cats have.

Ben does yawn, which checks out, because he’s working way harder than Sammy on any given day. Not that Sammy has no work ethic, because he does, but he’s tired, he’s … busy. Which are excuses, yeah, but they’re not ones Sammy will say for fear of people picking them apart. And since Ben’s not really complaining or even asking, well …

“Hey, uh, Sammy?”

“Yeah?” Sammy responds and leans back against the desk, and is met by Ben’s very patented shrug-smile combination.

“You been to Rose’s Diner yet?”

He hasn’t. Of course he’s heard things about it and about Rose herself, hers is practically the only diner in town, but Sammy’s never been super big on eating out. Particularly not in towns that somehow _make people disappear_ , where you’re not really planning on making friends with anyone anyway.

So.

“No, why?”

“You wanna go? Catch some breakfast?”

Sammy can only blink at him. “What- why, is this some kind of occasion?”

To which Ben gets a slightly flustered, sheepish look, but shit, he always powers through whatever doubt he might feel. “Sure, I mean … you know you’ve made it ten days, right? Since you made it out of Sweetzer Forest unscathed? Seems like that calls for some pancakes.”

“Pancakes”, Sammy echoes, like he’s never heard of the concept before.

“Right. Or waffles. Or, you know, whatever.”

There’s a second of awkward silence, but then Sammy glances at Lida for help and she just gives him a slow blink, and Sammy knows she’s right. He can’t hide. He doesn’t have to make friends, but he can’t _hide_.

And … it’d be nice to not have to go back to the apartment right away.

“… yeah, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL we'll see if I keep up with this. I hope so! I spent a lot of time researching and picking dæmons for everyone, so there's reasoning behind them that I don't want to go to waste hahaha. I hope to cover a few more episodes per chapter moving forward so the pacing isn't too slow, but I still want to have a sense of passage of time and explore backstories and what we don't get to hear on air, too. Do leave me some feedback if you'd like about stuff like that! Or, you know, in general. Would really appreciate it. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers episodes 2 and 3.

“So let’s take stock”, Sammy says when he comes home that night, double-checking that the door’s locked behind him. “We’ve been here two weeks and we know of two missing persons. _Two_.”

Lidaranth looks just as unhappy about this as Sammy feels, and she sits stiffly as she waits for him to take his jacket and shoes off. Tail curled around her body, draping over her front paws. “It’s … quite a track record.”

“It’s _insane_.” Now when he’s in the safety of his own home, the nerves assault him all over again. Of course he’d kept himself in check at the station. Not that Ben would have noticed any weirdness of Sammy’s today since he’d spent most of the time daydreaming about Emily Potter long after she’d left. Or nightdreaming, whatever.

And yeah, Sammy gets that. She’s cute, attractive. Reminds him of his first and only girlfriend, actually. But that’s not something he’s hung up on for obvious reasons. His priorities lie in the stories he’s been told tonight, and _every other_ fucking night, of all the weird goings-on.

Then again, all those stories present a different problem. One Lida points out when she follows him to where he sits down on the couch.

“It _sounds_ insane”, she says, jumping up to perch on the armrest next to him. “But we don’t know what’s true. Or to what _degree_ it’s true. If most of what we hear is clearly just – legends, or stories …”

Sammy breathes out slowly, sits up a little straighter, and strokes a hand along his dæmon’s back, scratching her lightly between the shoulder blades. “Yeah. I know. But we heard what happened to Tim, and if this Mrs. Kilpatrick is … shit, missing for real, that’s –”

“Yeah, but … she’s an old woman with delusions, too”, Lida says, and Sammy knows that should make him feel better, but it doesn’t. There’s still an uneasiness in his body that he just can’t shake.

“Right”, he says, anyway. Because it makes sense. There are all kinds of reasons she could be missing, all kinds of reasons the library could have been set on fire, and when you look at the facts, it comes down to this: an old woman plagued by some kind of hallucinations. She might have been suffering Alzheimer’s, or – or whatever, and she could have done some irrational things. Like starting a fire and walking away from her town.

It makes sense. It does. Only the whole situation still feels so fucking eerie.

Lida knows he doesn’t feel great because she doesn’t feel great either, but neither of them have for months now, so that’s nothing new. She starts purring anyway to try to center both of them, and Sammy hides his face in her fur.

###

The apartment is on the third floor. There aren’t a lot of apartments in King Falls, most homes are houses, but around what you’d call downtown if you feel really generous there are a few apartment complexes, and Sammy has five neighbours in his stairwell.

Directly across from him is a young woman he’s only seen twice so far with a moth dæmon, so maybe it’s no wonder she seems so private. On the second floor is one Mr. Morrison, a man in his sixties with thin, wire-frame glasses and a gentle manner, and a single mom named Lydia Park, who has two young boys aged six and a tired smile. Bottom floor: a florist in her thirties who insists Sammy calls her Janey and who gave him a little welcome bouquet the day after he’d moved in, and a teenaged punk rocker Sammy doesn’t know or care to learn the name of but who looks like something the cat dragged in.

It’s not that Sammy’s an unfriendly person. It’s that he’s tired, and in pain, and in a town his missing fiancé was obsessed with before he mysteriously disappeared, and he doesn’t really want to make any friends in it. The less reasons to stick around, the better.

In his dreams he finds Jack and brings him … back. Maybe not to California, it’s been so soured for both of them. Back to Florida? Somewhere completely new? But away from King Falls is always the idea. Always.

It’s just that all these people around him seem to want him to like them. And he does. He really does – Janey and Mr. Morrison are his favourite neighbours, if he had to choose – but that doesn’t mean he wants to get close to them.

And yes, it’s stupid. It’s borderline ridiculous. But today is one of those days where Sammy’s just not feeling up to anything at all, and so when Lida pauses by the door and tells him “wait”, and he hears footsteps and the jangle of keys out there too, he stops too.

And waits.

Meaning they’re now standing in the hallway of their sparsely furnished apartment and listening for the girl with the moth dæmon to unlock her door, enter her own place, and lock it again.

Only then does Sammy open his own.

Which he knows is stupid, and irrational, because this girl doesn’t want to talk to him either, but he feels … skittish, and unhappy, and like he just wants to avoid people until he has to embrace all of them on the radio in six hours.

Lida scurries out by his feet and he locks the door behind them, and then after a second’s deliberation picks Lida up so she can climb onto his shoulders. They don’t do this often but sometimes it’s … nice. And it’s easier to talk to her when she’s right by his ear.

“That was close”, is the first thing she says, but her tone is all sarcastic and Sammy rolls his eyes.

“Look who’s talking, oh ye of bristled tail.”

Lida doesn’t say anything to that. Sammy doesn’t say anything either. They can jab at each other for how needlessly irrational their behaviour is all they want, but they’re the same, in the end. They’re extensions of each other. There’s no point in trying to needle each other when they’re just hurting themselves by it.

Sammy walks briskly; Lida has her claws in his jacket for stability. It’s the jacket that’s a problem today. It’s this fake leather jacket that was … fine for a shock jock in LA, but that doesn’t work in a mountain town like King Falls. Not that Sammy’s completely unprepared for the outdoors – he’s from Michigan, for fuck’s sake – but he’d forgotten to bring a more appropriate jacket. The stuff that he didn’t bring to King Falls is in storage back in California and he’s not making that drive just for a goddamn piece of clothing.

Honestly, he’s not sure he could ever bring himself to go back, the more he thinks about it. Not at all. There’s too much pain there. Vegas might be the city that never sleeps, but Sammy hasn’t slept in Los Angeles for what feels like years even though it’s only been a few months.

He’s tired now. He’s tired all the time. But he’s up, he needs to cook something, and he needs to buy a new jacket, because this jacket is serviceable but flimsy and it’s so firmly attached to a persona Sammy doesn’t want to be anymore. He and Lida both pretend that that last one isn’t the main reason that he’s itching to get something else to wear, but … it probably is.

Because he fucking hates Shotgun Sammy. The people calling in to talk to Shotgun even _now_ make him even more eager to shed that skin.

A minor bonus might be that the Big City jabs could get less frequent if he looked less like he just came from there.

Maybe.

Sammy sighs, rounds the corner to get onto the single shopping street, and stops in his tracks like a deer in the goddamn headlights, because he didn’t want to talk to people today but he knows he’s going to have to.

Deputy Troy Krieghauser is talking to someone, saying goodbye, and then – yeah, eye contact.

Damn it.

Sammy makes himself smile and Troy’s dog dæmon visibly perks up, matching Troy’s grin when he comes up.

“Heya, Sammy! Wow, it’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it, bud? How are you holdin’ up?”

Not great, Sammy thinks, not at all, in between the nightmares, Amyria’s fucking coma, my own inability to find out what the fuck is happening in this town, I’m doing really fucking shit, thanks for asking. But what he says is “hey, Troy, I’m alright. What are you doing here?”

Troy looks over his shoulder to the shop he’d been outside of a moment ago, then leans forward towards Sammy, like he’s letting him in on a secret. “Well, I was coming in to investigate a break-in, ‘cept it turns out someone just forgot to lock their door. So there’s nothin’ to worry about.”

Sammy … almost laughs. He doesn’t, because he’s in a bad mood, but you have to laugh at that kind of thing, right? “Are you sure they really need you in this town?”

“Hey now, if there’s no work to be done? That means I’m doing my job right, Sammy.”

Lida nuzzles her face against Sammy’s hair. “Let me down”, she says quietly, and Sammy takes her in his arms before leaning to set her on the ground. She walks up to Troy’s dæmon who immediately starts sniffing at her, and the two of them wind up in hushed conversation within a moment.

Sammy looks at the pair for a moment, then he redirects his attention to Troy. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

“‘course I’m right, Sammy. You leave the police business to me and I’ll leave the radio-ing to you.” But in typical Troy fashion, that’s not criticism. It’s just … easy, friendly. Until it turns teasing. “Now, since you clearly made it down here alright on your own, I’ll assume you’re situated. No walking in circles, huh?”

And this time Sammy doesn’t laugh, but he snorts. “Yeah, I know my way around by now. Everything’s a straight shot, more or less.”

Troy winks. “So’s Sweetzer forest. Hey, I’ll let you get back to it. I best get back to my car before one of the Williams boys tries to spray-paint more phalluses onto it. Catch ya later, bud.”

“See you”, Sammy agrees, waves him off. Troy’s dæmon trots off after him and Lida keeps pace with Sammy when they make it to the one clothing store.

After a few minutes he’s picked out an earthy-green field-style jacket and tries it in one of the two dressing rooms the store has to offer.

“So what did you and Troy’s dæmon talk about?” he asks Lida, while he checks how deep the pockets are.

“Her name is Ilma”, Lida says, where she’s watching him from where she’s curled up on a little stool. “And mostly about how stupid the other jacket is.”

Sammy shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. He’s not vain but now when he’s looking in a mirror he’s seeing yet again how it’s getting a little longer. He’s always kept it short, his whole life. It’s not that it’s long now but it’s starting to fall over his forehead in a way he’s not used to.

The jacket, though. It fits. It’s comfortable. The pockets are good. That’s all he can ask for and all he really cares about.

“Right. But this one is better?”

“Mm. A lot.”

###

“Welcome back guys and gals, we’re talking to Lizzie Borden who is one of the lovely people helping out by Lake Hatchenhaw to prepare for the Bass Tournament that’s happening in just two days.”

“Thanks! It’s cool to be here”, Lizzie says and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with a little grin. Her chinchilla dæmon is curled up in her lap. She’s sitting on Ben’s right side, because Ben has finally ceded that his spot is next to Sammy proper. Lizzie’s sitting where Ben used to be, further down the desk.

Ben himself is playing with one of the little toy dinosaurs he’s decorated with. Well, decorated might be a bit generous, but there’s three small plastic dinosaurs guarding Ben’s notes and pens, and one in his hand that he’s twirling around. One of those ones with a sail on its back. Sammy can’t remember the name.

“So tell us a little about the event, Lizzie”, Sammy says, keeps going. “We all know I’m a newcomer and I have no idea what’s in stock, and I’m sure some of our listeners wouldn’t mind a refresher.”

“Okay, so, I’m working on the stage right now – well not _right now_ right now obviously – but we’ll have a speech by Mayor Grisham, and the winner will get to speak too, of course. In the meantime there’s going to be some live music, and an open mic between two and three for the kids.”

“Oh oh, with the band, right?” Ben says with an excited little smile and Aylin’s ears are noticeably perked. “I totally missed that last year.”

Sammy can’t help it: “and here I thought you were a grown adult, Ben.”

“Um, I am, obviously”, Ben says, in the smoothest save Sammy’s ever heard (not really). “But I did that all the time when I was a kid, right? You go on there, you tell the band a song, they play and you ... yeah. Makes you feel like a rock star. Uh, a small one. It’s a small audience.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing! I think last year it didn’t happen because the band couldn’t make it, but the Ricketies aren’t going to disappoint is, I just know it.”

“The … Ricketies”, Sammy says. “You know, that’s not exactly a name that instils a lot of confidence.”

“Hey, Rick’s a good guy, Sammy.” Ben gestures at him with the dinosaur toy. “I know not everything can live up to your Big City standards …”

“Woah, hey, that’s not what I meant”, Sammy says back with a laugh. “It’s just – a very interesting name choice, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I think it’s because the lead singer’s name is Rick”, Lizzie chimes in helpfully, and Sammy resists the urge to say something about how that’s _incredibly_ obvious.

“Alright, what else you got?” Ben says after a beat of silence, and Sammy can’t help but feel a little proud of him. First rule of radio: no dead air. Ben’s picking up on it quickly. Well, either that or he’s just excited to talk about this Bass Tournament, which is a lot more than just a fishing contest, since the whole town is riled up about it.

It makes sense, really. There’s not a lot to do in towns like these. You latch onto what events there are and you make something more of them.

Sammy lets Ben lead the conversation for a minute while he idly strokes Lida between the ears and wonders if Mary and her kids will be there and take part in all the little games and activities. He hopes so. He and Ben went to see Mary again yesterday and her and the kids both deserve a goddamn break.

###

They’d walked to her house. It was a house Sammy knew well since it wasn’t just Angie’s – it was also Ric’s. He had no idea how many times he’d spent the night, how many house parties or how many times he’d just come over to escape his own parents, and Ric had always been up for getting wasted and talking shit.

“If you’re going to take my sister out you better fucking behave, Stevens”, Ric had said to him only a few hours ago.

Sammy had. And now Angie was looking at him with this bright smile, her rabbit dæmon scuttling up to Lidaranth between their feet. They’d gotten along, and Sammy had been surprised with how much he’d enjoyed Angie’s company throughout the night – she was sweet, smart and a really good listener, and the way she’d unsubtly been digging for dirt about her brother had been entertaining in its own right.

Not that Sammy had given her much. Her brother was a douchebag, same as Sammy. And Angie wasn’t stupid, she knew they got in trouble and spent a lot of time being fucking idiots, but Sammy didn’t want her to know the details.

It surprised him but he just wanted to spend more time with her. So the less she knew about that stuff, the better.

He glanced at the windows but didn’t see any sign of her parents or her brother.

She laughed. “Trust me, if he’s being a creep and spying on me, I’ll punch him.”

“Uh –” Sammy laughed, too. “Okay, just make sure that doesn’t come around to bite _me_ in the ass.”

“No promises”, Angie said, and stepped closer to him.

Sammy paused, his mind immediately kicking into overdrive. Was she going to kiss him? Did she expect him to kiss her? It’d just been one date, he didn’t have to kiss her, right? Would she be upset if he didn’t? Would he be too forward if he did?

She looked at his face and then stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I had fun”, she said, looking shy this time. It was late, the streetlights were kind of dim – Sammy couldn’t tell if she was blushing, but he thought she probably was, because … well, because _he_ was. “See you later?”

“Yeah – yeah, of course.”

###

His head is pounding when he finally makes it to his apartment, his mind whirring, turning every which way to make sense of what’s happened only a few hours earlier – the body in the lake is the first thing on his mind and he has no clue how he kept it together in front of Ben, Troy and mayor fucking Grisham, but now when he’s locked the door behind him and is able to breathe he wonders if he’s shaking.

“Come on!” Lida calls with an urgency that’s not usual for her and she sprints towards the bedroom so fast Sammy feels the faint pain of the tug between them created by the distance, and it makes him follow quickly.

Jack, he thinks. That’s all he’s thinking. Jack Jack Jack – a body – Jack – Amyria –

But Amyria is still there. Nestled in the blanket on the windowsill. Lidaranth is curled up around her and she’s shivering, her big yellow eyes catching Sammy’s and all he can see in them is the same despair-mixed hope he feels in his chest.

He sinks down on the bed, his heart still racing.

“It can’t be him”, he tells her. He tells himself. “It can’t be him if she’s still here.”

Lida is silent for a long moment and then she nuzzles closer to the crow, who is still unresponsive. Cold. A ghost of herself. “I miss her”, Lida says and curls even more closely around the bird, like she’s protecting her, like she can shield her from harm. Like the harm hasn’t already been done.

Sammy feels the tears come. “I miss him too.”

###

It’s two days later when Sammy manages to get down to Lake Hatchenhaw again. He walks into Begley’s Bait Shop which is a wooden cabin right by the water. The water itself looks innocent in the morning light. You wouldn’t think two days ago a body was found in this lake, so long as you don’t look at the part of the dock that’s taped off.

The shop is a little older. Slightly dark inside because it doesn’t get much natural light, but … nice. Sammy’s not much of a fisherman but he can recognise a lot of the bait and tackle as handmade and that’s a craft that he can admire.

Ron Begley himself he has to admire for different reasons.

“Hey Sammy, what are you doing here?” Ron greets him in that gruff kind of voice, and his wolverine dæmon that’s lying on the counter gives Sammy a lazy look. Lida stays behind Sammy’s legs.

“Hi Ron – uh, not buying bait, unfortunately.”

Ron gives him a once-over and then a crooked grin. “Yeah, no kiddin’. You sure don’t have the look of a fisherman, city boy.”

Sammy laughs but it’s more out of nerves than anything else. Ron’s gay. Ron’s gay, and Ron just looked him up and down, and Sammy doesn’t know what the _hell_ Ron can get out of him that he’s not ready to say.

He’s been over it with Lida more than once. There’s a longing for any kind of companionship and Sammy won’t deny that, but he doesn’t _know_ Ron. He doesn’t know if he can trust him. And even if he can he doesn’t want to pull anyone else into his own problems.

For now, he’s not going to say anything.

“Hey, I—I’m not _completely_ hopeless with a fishing rod”, he says instead in mild protest.

Ron laughs, but it’s friendly. At least Sammy thinks so. Ron is … intimidating. “You think you could ever pull up something like this, huh?” he says and gestures to a taxidermized fish on a wall that Sammy doesn’t recognise at all but that is bigger than Sammy himself.

Sammy gapes for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nope.”

“My dad caught that one”, Ron says, smile softening. “Bless his soul. He was a stubborn fucker, you know? And proud to pieces of this little shop.”

“I can see why.” And he really means that. There are pictures around the walls, black and white ones of different men and women, and Sammy assumes they chronicle the Begley family history. More fish are fighting for room between the shelves beneath the huge one and there are trophies on top of a cabinet. It’s cluttered but not claustrophobic.

Ron claps his hands on the counter he’s standing behind and Sammy _almost_ jumps. “Well, enough sentimentality. Spit it out, pal. You need me for something.”

“Right. Yeah, I, uh – I wanted to ask you about the body. You saw it, right?”

Ron raises his eyebrows. “You gonna get me into trouble, Sammy?”

Sammy smiles thinly. “Not at all. You can be an anonymous source. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. And with Grisham practically _gagging_ us --”

“Oh, I don’t give a damn about Grisham. Sure Sammy, I’ll talk. I’ll trust your judgment on this one.”

“Thank you, seriously. So, uh – well – _did_ you see the body?”

Ron’s dæmon sits up on the counter, her dark eyes fixing on Sammy, and Sammy can’t help but shrink back slightly. But Ron doesn’t look angry, just thoughtful. And a little sad. “Yup. I did.”

Letting out a breath, Sammy mentally steels himself. “Can you – describe it? Did you see if it was a man or a woman? Hair colour? Any injuries?”

Ron shakes his head. “I can’t be too sure. There was a hell of a ruckus and all that. Pretty sure it was a blonde, though. And I didn’t see any blood or wounds or anything.”

Sammy and Lida share a look: it’s not Jack. It’s really not Jack. And Sammy feels like a selfish fucking idiot for wanting to know that first, but at least now when he knows, he can ask the more objective questions. He can treat this like the news it is. He can take a step back, try to be objective, and report it on his goddamn show.

Ben probably won’t take it too well. Which is why Sammy didn’t have him tag along on this little excursion. Well, that’s part of it. Part of it is that Sammy doesn’t want Ben to get in trouble over this in case Grisham’s going to pull rank again.

###

“Oh, Sammy! Hi!”

There’s no mistaking the chime that’s Emily Potter’s voice, and Sammy gives her a little smile when he turns around. In hindsight, he really should have expected to run into her. She _is_ the head librarian, after all. She’s also smiling brightly at him and it looks like she’s carrying some kind of clipboard in her hands, and she has a pen behind an ear. It’s so cliché it turns right around into cute.

“Hi”, he says back, and his eyes drift to her nametag. It says ‘Emily & Ellion’, and he glances at her dæmon. Some kind of desert fox, not one he thinks he’s seen before, with big ears and sandy fur. Ellion is touching noses with Lidaranth, and Sammy nods a little at Emily, indicating her tag with his eyebrows raised. “I don’t see that a lot.”

“Oh, you mean his name?” She smiles and adjusts her name tag a little. “It’s public knowledge anyway when you work for the community. Plus, I thought it’d help foster a trusting, friendly environment. Most responses have been really positive.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means. “Let me guess: some scathing comments from Cynthia Higgenbaum?”

Emily bites her lip, but she’s still smiling. “I’m not going to confirm or deny that.”

“You don’t have to”, he says with a small grin. “I know I’m right.”

Emily laughs, and at their feet, Ellion enters a playful little bow. Lida swats at him, playing just as much. “Well, can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, uh – don’t worry about it. It looks like you have important head librarian duties to worry about.” Sammy glances at the pen behind her ear, and she plucks it from there, taps it a little at the clipboard.

“I’m just going through some inventory. I can take a few minutes to see what a friend needs.”

Sammy’s almost positive she doesn’t mean that in a real way, calling him her friend. This is the second time he’s ever met her. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the sentiment, but … it’s still something he mentally finds himself shrugging off.

“Okay, well, I don’t – really have anything specific in mind. I figured I’d read up a bit on the history in the town? Particularly the lake.”

Emily positively lights up. “I know the perfect books for you, Sammy! Here, follow me.”

###

It’s only a few nights until the full moon. Sammy stands by the window looking at the dark sky and the many stars with his keys in hand. It’s about time to go if he wants to make it to the show in time, but he lingers.

Lida is curled up around Amyria again, grooming her. It’s not how a bird would do it, of course. Lida’s raspy cat-tongue isn’t made for picking at and realigning feathers, isn’t good for plucking out little specks of dirt or bugs. But she does it anyway and she’s purring while she’s doing it.

Sammy feels her grief, her desperation to bring the love of her life back. It’s the same thing he’s feeling, day and night, but it’s so compounded by Lida’s care for Amyria. For Jack’s dæmon who hasn’t moved or spoken since January.

“We have to go”, he says, soft and sorry.

Lida keeps grooming the bird.

###

“I can’t believe you dressed to match your dæmon”, Lily said. She rolled her eyes but Sammy thought it was mostly there to hide her smile.

Jack never hid his: he laughed. Bright, easy. “Of course I did! She’s my most important accessory.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troy's dæmon is a Carolina dog, and Emily's is a Rüppell's fox - they look very similar to fennecs but are a little darker and bigger.  
> Thanks so much for all the love and response to the first chapter! I really hope you guys enjoy this one too.


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